


The Worst Possible Timeline

by Lady_Lavender



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brainwashing, Child Abuse, Dante is dead and Nelo Angelo killed him on Mallet Island, Don't copy to another site, Father/Son Incest, Incest, M/M, Master/Pet, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-10-27 06:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20756180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Lavender/pseuds/Lady_Lavender
Summary: Nelo Angelo kills Dante on Mallet Island. When Mundus invades the human world properly a couple years later, a teenager named Nero is gifted to him as a pet in reward for his loyal service.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is gonna be dark, and it's gonna be Problematic As Hell. I don't care about that
> 
> I uh. Mostly care about releasing Yet Another WIP Fic's First Chapter into the wild when I've been super slow to update my other stuff

This was, without a doubt, the worst possible timeline. Nero had grown up hearing all about Sparda, how he had severed the connection between human and demon worlds, turned his back on his own kind, all for the sake of humanity. Had been told that, should the Demon King rise again and try to take over the human world, Sparda would be their Savior again, and they all had nothing to fear.

Nero had always thought the whole thing was kind of stupid, even at times doubting the very existence of an entire other world where demons came from. But when the rift opened up below his feet, when demons poured out and slaughtered everyone in sight — save for him, who managed to be found by a colossal fire demon who declared that Nero had 'the stench of betrayal'. That alone was apparently enough to have him taken directly to the Demon King.

Well, not _quite_ directly. Nero sat just outside a huge set of doors, shivering in the charred tatters of the robes he'd gotten from the orphanage. The fire demon, Berial, was on the other side, talking with the ruler of all hell. Deciding Nero's fate.

What was so special about him? He was just a kid, no one even knew his real birthday — three weeks ago he'd been given a cupcake for the thirteenth anniversary of when the orphanage had found an infant wrapped in a black blanket on their doorstep. That was the closest date they had for him, really.

A woman who looked human came in from the other end of the hall, leading a demon knight with a gigantic sword and black armor. They both paused briefly in front of Nero, before the woman jerked her head to the door he was sitting next to. "C'mon, kid. Master Mundus wants to see you for himself."

The demon knight was taller than most people Nero had met, but smaller than some of the powerful demons that leered at him from the shadows, and much _much_ smaller than the giant fire demon that had brought him here in the first place. He also barely even looked in Nero's direction, and didn't make a sound at all before he was moved inside at the point of that massive sword.

On the other side of the doors, Berial was nowhere to be seen anymore, and the human-looking woman and the demon knight both knelt down in front of what seemed to be a giant statue of a man with three eyes. The woman glanced at Nero, before pushing him down on his hands and knees with inhuman strength and a crackle of electricity over the back of his neck.

So she _was_ a demon.

**"Ah, how amusing is this? Another of Sparda's descendants, brought right to me. Nelo Angelo, do you recall the island of Fortuna?"** The booming voice seemed to be inside Nero's head and coming from the statue at the same time. Was this the Demon King? And who was Nelo Angelo?

A soft clank of armor, and the silent knight behind him must have made some kind of motion, because there was a low, rumbling laughter that echoed in that same overwhelming voice as before. **"I see. This boy is more human than you, hardly fitting his demonic heritage… Perhaps you might eventually teach him what it means to purge the human weakness from his form, Nelo Angelo."**

Silence followed, stretching on uncomfortably without even the sound of shifting armor before the Demon King spoke again. **"As an overdue… _reward_ for your exceptional performance on Mallet Island, you may have him as a pet. In order to train him, you may also have your voice again, as well. Step out of line, and first your voice will go, then your new pet."**

Behind him, Nero heard the knight coughing, before a hoarse "I understand, Master Mundus," echoed through the armor. Nero was… going to be a _pet_? And what did the Demon King mean, Nero had demonic heritage?

He swallowed nervously, remembering how the people in the Order had always said that he had the same white hair as the Savior. Was he… was Nero actually related to Sparda? Was that why the demons had spared him, only to give him to another demon as some kind of trophy?

The woman next to him stood up before bowing, and the knight followed suit before leaning down to grab hold of the blue hood on Nero's robes, picking him up rather uncomfortably. His first desire was to fight, the way he did with any of the adults in the orphanage or the Order that tried to discipline him. But some instinctive fear made him just go limp, instead.

As Nero was carried along by the knight, he dared to actually look up at him. He had horns that curved downward, and a blank expression… Although, since his voice had sounded like it was coming through armor, did that mean he was just wearing a helmet?

What did this demon knight even look like under all that black armor, anyway? And how did he intend to keep Nero?

Nero tried to make sense of every hallway he was taken down in this massive, twisting maze of a hell-palace. But in the end, he was completely lost when the knight opened up a large set of doors that led into a rich room that was warmed with blue flames in a fireplace and purple velvet on the walls.

The knight tossed him rather carelessly to the ground, and Nero barely made much of a noise as he hit the cool stone floor. More sounds of armor shifting, and the knight hung his sword on the wall before… pulling off the helmet to reveal a very human-looking face with inhuman features. Blue veins and glowing red eyes were the only standout color against deathly pale, white skin…

And white hair.

Those eyes, unnerving in how intense they looked over him, made Nero want to shrink back. Instead, he tried to stare back for as long as he could, fighting every instinct that said to look away and bow his head.

"Mundus has a cruel sense of humor, as always. What is your name, boy?"

Although still hoarse, there was the sound of something else in the knight's voice. Nasally, he'd heard adults say to describe it. Nero's throat felt too dry, and his own voice came out too small and quiet for him to like. "Nero. That's what the orphanage named me."

The knight's burning red eyes closed, and he laughed… but it didn't sound like he was all that happy, either. "I see. For all Mundus has a cruel sense of humor, Fate has one even crueler."

Nero was confused, but before he could ask what was so not-funny, the knight spoke again. "You may call me Nelo Angelo or Master. If you desire to continue living, then you will do exactly as I say, and _especially_ when outside of this room. Mundus is far less forgiving of failure than I am, and you would do well to remember that there are worse fates than the simple death I would give you."

"Like being treated like an animal by demons? _That_ kind of worse fate?" Nero shot back, his courage flaring up for a few brief moments as he braced for a physical retaliation.

It didn't come. Instead, only that same humorless laugh as Nelo Angelo started removing his armor. "Like having your past, your identity, and everything you once cared about stripped away until you're only a blank slate, an empty shell to be used however your master chooses... Right up until the exact moment where giving you back even a fraction of who you once were will break your spirit even more. Being a pampered pet of a favored general is a blessing in comparison."

Nero went quiet at that, choosing to keep his defiance to a sullen glare at his new 'master' while Nelo Angelo retreated to the bathroom attached to his bedroom. When no one was watching him, Nero quietly stepped over to the door, reaching for the handle.

"You are Sparda's kin. Leaving might only result in death at the hands of those who want to see his bloodline exterminated for Sparda's betrayal. Do you really want to risk it?" The knight's voice drifted from the bathroom, startling Nero.

The worst part was... Nero really _didn't_ want to risk it. He didn't know what was so special about him or what Nelo Angelo found so cruel about his name or that the Demon King gave him to the knight as a pet, but the words 'pampered pet' had been used, so maybe it wouldn't be too much worse than his treatment at the orphanage.

He could be hopeful... Or he could just be lying to himself. Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know some folks are hoping for more of my other Vergil/Nero fics to update, but I am putting (Not) Alone At The Top on hiatus for a bit so I can actually plan it out a bit more while I work on other fics or AUs that have more of my interest right now.
> 
> I _am_ working on my ongoing fics! It's just been slow going because of health issues.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An overview of Nero's first couple of weeks as Nelo Angelo's pet

Being Nelo Angelo's pet wasn't as terrible as Nero had feared. Demeaning, when everyone looked down on him and he was expected to answer to even the lowest Hell Caina as though they were better than him by virtue of being demons, but Nelo Angelo himself wasn't… awful.

For starters, Nero was given as much food as he actually wanted. The orphanage in Fortuna had been very strict about portions and never giving anyone seconds. They'd had to feed several dozen children, 'fairness' had been vital. For Nero, that had meant constant hunger pangs and a too-thin frame.

Here, Nelo Angelo spoiled him with as many warm, delicious meals as he could stand eating. It didn't stop Nero from hoarding food whenever he got a chance, eating it in secret, but some habits were very hard to break. And Nelo Angelo never even _questioned_ this habit, let alone punished him for it.

Another thing was clothing. Oh, he didn't have much choice in his wardrobe itself, but he had _some_ variety that wasn't all pretty much the same damn outfit for wearing in public. Not only that, the clothes were brand new and tailored to his growing body — no more hand-me-down clothes from the orphanage that were far too baggy on his undernourished frame.

Sure, he had a 'pet bed' that was little more than a cushion and some blankets tossed on the floor… but it was still much nicer to the touch and more comfortable than the awful, industrial beds in the orphanage by _far_. Those had reminded Nero of what you might find in a hospital: some kind of plastic rectangle stuffed with too little cushioning. They were made for easy cleaning if one of the smaller children wet the bed, and cheaply swapped out if they needed replacing.

But Nero's cushion was extremely soft to the touch, almost over-stuffed, and kept him insulated from the cold stone floor. He was even allowed to move it closer to the fireplace at night, where he could bask in some extra warmth when the numerous heavy blankets weren't quite enough to cut the chill.

He was allowed to bathe himself, small dignities. And Nelo Angelo allowed Nero the use of his impressively luxurious bath and all the nice-smelling soaps that kept away the worst of the perpetual stench of sulfur and blood. His white hair, so endearing to the gossip mills in Fortuna but a massive target for the peers who hated him for being different, had never been quite so clean or soft.

And the privacy of the baths allowed him time to himself, for whatever reason he might want. Hey, he was a teenager now, he needed _alone time_ for certain things!

The downside was that Nelo Angelo expected Nero to stick by his side much of the time during the day. He wasn't allowed to simply stay in the safety of his bedroom — no, Nero was dragged along to meet all sorts of demons and devils and watch his 'owner' execute whoever the Demon King told him to.

That also meant learning who was who, and the politics of Hell. Not just all the devils that made up the power structure, but the smaller demons and their place in serving the bigger ones.

And of all of them, Nero was always considered at the very bottom. Barely allowed to live because of demonic heritage he hadn't even known about, but mostly weak and human, with no actual _powers_ or even all that much strength. The one, dubious power he had was accelerated healing. That was it. It meant that he rarely had proof to show that the other demons liked to hurt him when Nelo Angelo wasn't looking. Taste his blood, sometimes, with their fangs and sharp claws so easily scratching his fragile, human skin.

Nero hated it. And after a few weeks, he was sick enough of the treatment that he fought back. His fist collided with the possessed doll that had been scratching him to absorb his blood. He didn't care about the possibility of splinters in his hand, but the damn thing grabbed his wrist and shoved a blade into his right arm, pinning him to the dining room floor in the process.

It hurt. He'd never experienced so much pain before, not that he could remember, and his whole arm throbbed with each heartbeat.

But he didn't cry out in pain. Instead, Nero screamed in anger, using his left hand to rip the blade from his own arm and stab the creature's dumb face. He barely registered that he was being physically dragged away by a figure in black armor.

Across the table, the demon woman who sometimes ran messages for the Demon King — Trish, Nero had been told her name was — just laughed and leaned forward. "He's got more fight than I think we were giving him credit for. Didn't even scream in pain when he got stabbed straight through. Maybe he'll make a good Angelo himself, someday. Would you like that, Vergil?"

Nero barely registered the woman's words as he tried to writhe free of the cold, iron grip on his painfully throbbing arm. He was still _pissed_ at that Marionette, wanted to bash its fucking face in until it was nothing but a pile of bloody splinters. But Nelo Angelo's voice, right behind him, was still enough to cut through his rage.

"That is not my name. Not anymore. As for the boy becoming an Angelo, that is up to Master Mundus alone."

Nelo Angelo had another name? And he'd heard that phrase, or variations of it, before… What did it mean to _become_ an Angelo? Nero growled as he stopped squirming, knowing that the demon who'd been assigned as his 'master' had too good a grip on him to let Nero get away.

He'd have to keep listening another time. But for now, blood dripped down his arm and splattered on the ground, making a mess of his shirt. And his arm felt… _weird_, too. Oh, a bit painful, but as his healing kicked in that wasn't so bad. No, it just felt numb, mostly. Like when his foot fell asleep, with that weird static sensation, combined with some extra warmth.

Nero wanted to be stronger. He wanted the power to beat the hell out of any demon who thought they could push him around.

"Curious…" Nelo Angelo's voice reverberated through his helmet, and he picked up Nero's right hand, pushing the sleeve up past his elbow.

"Now _that's_ interesting. Maybe the boy does have some demonic powers after all." Trish jumped over the table to take a closer look, one hand on her hip as she leaned down.

What was so special about his arm? His healing was just going a bit weirdly slow, that was all. Nero looked for himself, finally, after flexing his fingers to try and chase away the weird static that buzzed up and down from his fingertips to his elbow. Time to see how slow it really was healing.

Instead of the usual sight, he was met with a vision of glowing blue cracks in his skin — skin that seemed to be rapidly losing its color and thickening into armored 'scales' instead. Wiggling his fingers moved the fingers of the arm he was seeing, so it _had_ to be his… or at least, he was controlling it, anyway.

People had kept saying that Nero was part-demon, but he hadn't been able to quite believe it. Fast healing was weird, but not particularly demonic. It could've just been a spell someone had put on him, to keep him from so easily dying in Hell.

But this arm? This arm was very clearly demonic… and it was _his_. Attached to him and moved by him and everything. It had been easy to make himself think he wasn't anything like the creatures all around him when there was nothing all that inhuman about him. No extra strength or speed, nothing but a bit of healing.

Nero wasn't going to be able to keep lying to himself anymore. Mundus, and Nelo Angelo, and Trish, and Berial, and all the other demons that called _him_ a demon too… They were right.

Nero _was_ a demon, at least partly. A filthy hybrid that was too human to have any real demonic strength, and too demonic to ever fit in among humans again.

Mundus had been right to make him nothing more than a pet. Where else would he ever fit in?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nelo Angelo learns what his pet wants... and offers the closest thing he can

The child was depressed. Perhaps Nelo Angelo did not recall much of his previous life, but he did recall some actions that went along with that particular phrasing. Nero was listless, and had lost much of the fire that had started to seem endearing rather than annoying. This new despondence did not fit the boy that Nelo Angelo had started to enjoy the company of.

Nero's sudden shift in behavior had an obvious cause — the demonic right arm that had manifested. What might be going through his mind to make it such a large deal for him, Nelo Angelo could only guess at. Fortunately, there was a simple and straightforward solution, now that he had been so graciously given his voice back to utilize it.

"Come here, Nero." Nelo Angelo reclined on his bed, a set of instructions to give to Hell's armies laid gently down against his stomach. He did not often sleep — the modifications his Master had made to him allowed the energy of the underworld to keep him awake far beyond the ordinary limits of his half-human biology. Nero had not had such modifications made to his more-human body.

Perhaps Nelo Angelo could not properly be a father to the biological offspring he had neither known of nor even remembered conceiving, but he could at least try to prevent Nero from becoming an Angelo as well.

Slowly, the boy all but dragged himself onto the foot of his own master's bed. For a few moments, he smelled afraid, but then the nervous tension in his muscles relaxed even as the scent of fear grew stronger.

Fear... and something else that Nelo Angelo found familiar but could not pinpoint. Related to another of his memories that were sealed away by Mundus, likely.

"Nero, why does the emergence of your own demonic powers drain the fire from you?"

The boy in question tugged at the sleeve of the purple nightshirt he wore, attempting to hide the steadily bright glow of his demonic arm. It dimmed rarely, and grew blindingly bright in the presence of Mundus, so Nelo Angelo suspected that it was some physical way for Nero to be able to sense demonic energy.

But no words came out, and his bright blue eyes only hid behind hair that had probably needed a trim even before Nero was dragged to the underworld. "If you do not tell me, then I will have to punish you."

So far, punishment had only been necessary one time — when Nero had directly disobeyed an order from Trish. The she-devil had been in charge of that one, as she was the one who had been disobeyed... but Nelo Angelo was reluctant to use physical measures on his own kin.

The memory of his _brother's_ death at his own hands, blood bubbling up from his mouth in a red foam due to a punctured lung, still ached at his soul. Or at least, what was left of it.

But the threat of some kind of punishment had to be utilized here. If Nero did not speak of what was troubling him, Nelo Angelo could not get back the quietly defiant pet he wanted to see again.

"I'm not human, but I'm not a demon, either. Not really either."

Was that what was troubling him? Nelo Angelo reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and then brushed his hair back.

In his own quarters, he had no need of his armor or helmet, but that more casual setting left his hair falling into his face often and needing that action. Familiar, and yet he had no recollection of how often in his past life he'd done such a thing. It would be easier to use magic to force it to stay back in his preferred style, and yet...

He was getting off-track. "So you have human and demon blood. I do, as well, and yet I am a general to Master Mundus."

That must have been news to Nero, from the way he looked up so suddenly, eyes wide. "You're like... me? How can I get stronger, like you?"

Ah, the siren's song of power. So seductive even his own offspring yearned for it. If it was what Nero truly wanted, then it was not Nelo Angelo's place to stop him from seeking it on his own terms.

However, he drew the line at simply standing by if Nero wanted to become an Angelo himself.

"Loss. Sacrifice. Years of pain and suffering. You must lose everything, even your memories and sense of self, to become an Angelo like me. It is not something I can recommend."

Nero growled, the talons of his right hand tearing into the bedding. "I never _had_ anything to begin with! No parents, no family, I don't even have a real _birthday_, just a day when someone found me on a doorstep. I never had anything of my own, no one who really cared about me."

Tears — an entirely too human thing, that — streamed down Nero's face as he ranted, raising his voice with familiar fire.

"What did I ever have that I could lose in the first place? Not like I had a home! I grew up in an orphanage. My life's been better as a fucking _pet_ than it ever was as a person in Fortuna. I'm not really demon, I'm not really human, so why not? Maybe it's for the best this way."

The boy sobbed, curling up on himself as Nelo Angelo watched. None of this was what he expected, and even if it had been, he still wouldn't have known what to do or say. Human emotions were a weakness that he was supposed to have discarded. Maybe he had, at one point, before Mundus so _graciously_ allowed his memories of his brother back at the moment of Dante's death.

Point remained that he wasn't sure he could even begin to truly understand how Nero felt right now, and was ill-equipped to handle such messy things as an emotional breakdown.

"What do you desire, Nero? Death? Power? As comfortable and spoiled a life as I can offer you? Tell me, and I will see what I can do to grant your request."

The boy rubbed at his nose with the back of his demonic hand and sniffled. "I just want someone that loves me. I'm not gonna find that here. Maybe not ever."

A dull, hollow ache flared up in Nelo Angelo's chest, and the sharp pain of a memory trying to break through pierced his skull. Something resonated in that desire with the person Nelo Angelo used to be, and _Vergil_ was trying to break free.

He made a small grunt of pain at the inconvenience, before forcing himself to respond. "Demons aren't capable of love. None that I've seen, anyway. If love is what you desire, you'll find Hell quite lacking."

Nelo Angelo pulled Nero closer, caressing that round, childish face with his bare fingertips. The boy was so warm in comparison to the chill of darkness that invaded every part of Nelo Angelo's being, and he thought perhaps he could find some selfish pleasure in what he was about to suggest.

"However, humans have a tendency to mistake lust for love, at times. It will not be the same... but it is what I can offer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> C:

Lust. Nero was sheltered, and Fortuna had tried to stifle all talk about sex, but he wasn't completely stupid. Lust meant sex, and sex outside of marriage was forbidden — that was how he'd come about, or so people had assumed and relentlessly told him. He was the child of a whore. Conceived and born in 'sin,' even if he had the Savior's blessing in the form of his white hair.

Except none of that mattered anymore, because Fortuna was gone and Nero was a part-demon, mostly-human descendant of Sparda himself. And now he was just a pet to one of the Demon King's generals, good for not much more than his mother apparently was.

Did he want to try it, even knowing that his master couldn't really feel love for Nero like he so desperately desired? It sounded like he would just be fooling himself, living a lie because it was more pleasant than facing the truth. And… he couldn't go through with that. Hopefully he wouldn't come to a point where he'd rather take a pretty lie than the ugly truth.

Nero shook his head, pulling back from Nelo Angelo's too-cold hand on his face. "No. You can keep your offer. I don't want to _pretend_, I want the real thing."

His new master looked at him, red eyes unnerving Nero and forcing him to look away before a chilled hand patted his head. "Very well. Another time, perhaps."

Yeah, whatever. Nelo Angelo could fool himself into thinking that 'another time' would come, but Nero wouldn't have any part of it. No matter how tempting it was to have someone make him feel good outside of his own hand in the privacy of the bath each night, he didn't want to be treated like _that_.

He started to climb off the bed, content to go curl up on his cushion near the fireplace and drift off to sleep while his 'master' did… whatever he did while Nero slept each night. Did Nelo Angelo even _need_ to sleep? If he did, it was done entirely during the hours when Nero was unconscious.

But the demon's voice called to him, stopping him from moving too far. "Spend the night in my bed, at least."

Nero bristled, an itching sensation in his right arm making him shift uncomfortably as he looked back to Nelo Angelo, squinting. Was he going to be pushed into sex whether he wanted it or not? What a great way to cap off how shitty his life was.

"Why?" If Nelo Angelo was bothered by the suspicion or bitterness in Nero's voice, he didn't give any indication. Only a vague smile that looked like it was too practiced to be real.

"Because you're warm, and I'm selfish."

Nero paused at that. He'd hardly seen any demons that cared about the cold unless they were some kind of fire type themselves, but Nelo Angelo was the only one that actively sought out warmth for its own sake.

Whatever it meant to 'become an Angelo', like he'd heard Trish and Nelo Angelo talk about before, it must have robbed the heat from him. Made him physically cold and left him craving heat.

"Okay, but I'm getting the blankets from my bed, first."

A sickly-pale hand motioned to Nero's cushion, sitting next to the fireplace, and the multitude of blankets that were jumbled on top of it. Permission granted, then. Nero wasted no time in gathering those up and dragging them back to Nelo Angelo's bed, where he wrapped himself in at least two before squirming under the soft covers.

The feeling of Nelo Angelo curling up around him was actually kind of nice, even if he was freezing cold. No wonder the guy wanted Nero in bed with him, if he wanted warmth. Even through the layers of blankets, it felt like Nelo Angelo was sucking the heat away from Nero's core.

But the soft hum and the hand petting through his hair were soothing in ways Nero hadn't realized were possible, and he squeezed his eyes shut to fight off the wave of longing that threatened to bring tears.

He wanted _this_, Nero realized now. He wanted someone to hold him and give him gentle affection and _mean_ it. But Nelo Angelo had said up front that he wasn't capable of that. Had only asked Nero to stay in his bed for the night because he was selfish and cold, while Nero himself was literally just a warm body.

Nero slept better than he thought he would, and woke to the feeling of a cold hand brushing his hair out of his face. "Wake up, Nero. I've been given orders to go to the human world. You'll have to come with me, it's not safe for you to stay here alone."

Even through the haze of sleepiness, something registered that Nero would get to see the sun again. He'd get to maybe eat apples or at least some kind of non-demonic food.

He'd get to go _home_.

But then just as soon as that thought came, it was crushed by the memory of how he'd been treated by humans. No one had wanted him, no one had cared for him, no one had given him enough to eat or even _pretended_ to give him affection.

Nelo Angelo, for all that he was incapable of actually caring about Nero, was still putting forth the effort to do all of that.

It felt somehow wrong in his mouth and even moreso in his mind to say or think, but Nero didn't know how else to show the newfound acceptance of his place at Nelo Angelo's side. "Alright, Master."

No sarcasm, no venom, no hatred. Just dull, sleepy resignation. He was a hybrid pet that belonged to Nelo Angelo — and Nelo Angelo, in turn, spoiled Nero with far more luxury and feigned care than any human had ever given him.

He didn't fight the casual, cold touches as Nero followed his master to report to the Demon King. If anything, under that harsh, stony glare that made his right arm feel like it was going to explode, he was the one to initiate contact by leaning into Nelo Angelo's armored presence.

When they left, Trish's laughter set Nero's teeth on edge. She liked poking fun at Nelo Angelo. He didn't understand why his master seemed to tolerate her so much. She was just a messenger for Mundus, after all.

"Looks like your little pet's finally warming up to you, Vergil."

That name again. The one that Nelo Angelo kept refusing to acknowledge as his. "It seems that having him in my bed for a night has made him clingier than usual."

Nero huffed, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. He was not being clingy! But Trish's grin and laugh made him feel weird, like she was in on some joke that Nero wasn't getting.

"I thought human women were supposed to be the clingy ones after taking them to bed. Guess all humans are the same. Even some that are part-demon."

Nelo Angelo sighed, the sound echoing through his helmet. "That was not what I meant, Trish. But I won't be able to convince you otherwise now, either. Did you have a reason for being here?"

There was a different conversation that the two demons were having, and it was going right over Nero's head. But he didn't want to ask about it in front of Trish and wind up feeling dumb, either.

The she-devil rolled her eyes, and held out her hand. Yellow sparks of lightning emanated from her fingertips, and a broken, slender sword showed up in her grasp. "Master Mundus wants this repaired. He knows it can be used to open and close Hellgates at will, but it's a feisty bitch that barely lets anyone hold it. Trying to repair it, let alone _use_ it… Well. You're going to be more familiar with how temperamental it is."

Something about that sword, even in its broken state, was enough to make Nero's heart race in his chest. He _wanted_ it, wanted to taste its power even as it sang to him.

"… Yamato will react to me in much the same way as anyone else, now. Becoming an Angelo has stripped me of my right to wield it. It no longer calls to me."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Nero finally spoke up. "It's calling to me. Can I learn how to use it?"

Trish stared at Nero, and the feigned good attitude dropped as she put her free hand on her hip. Next to him, though, Nelo Angelo removed his helmet and looked down at him. Trying to judge something.

"If Yamato calls to you, then perhaps you are the only one right now who _can_ repair and wield it. Trish, would you mind informing Master Mundus of this development?"

Scoffing, Trish turned on one heel and started walking back towards the Demon King's chamber. "Somehow I doubt he's even demon enough to use it's full power, but we'll see what Mundus says."

The sword's siren song didn't grow any fainter as Trish took it further away. If anything, it just got stronger, and only Nelo Angelo's armored hand on his shoulder kept Nero from running after her.

"Something tells me that you'll be holding Yamato in your own hands soon enough, Nero."

Anxious and unable to stand completely still, Nero just leaned into the cold armor of his master and let his hair be toyed with while waiting to see that sword again.

God, how he _wanted_ it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha, sorry guys, no smut just yet.
> 
> _Yet._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nelo Angelo is proud of Nero, and Nero isn't sure how to take that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so remember how this fic is rated Explicit? This chapter and the next one are the start of the reason why.
> 
> This chapter includes: teenage masturbation and lots of conflicted emotions

By the time Nero got any kind of answer on whether he could have that sword that called to him so much — Yamato, he'd heard it called several times now — Nelo Angelo had taken him out to the human world again. Being in Hell for the past several months had left things like the feeling of warm sunlight on his pale skin to seem more like a fading dream than something he'd once actually experienced.

Either way, he'd been learning how to use a similarly-styled sword for the past week, and eating real, human food had Nero's energy up more than usual. Something about food from hell and food from the human world nourishing different parts of himself, he thought he heard Nelo Angelo say. Nero wasn't listening much, since he'd been too busy scarfing down some kind of noodle soup at the time.

Trish arrived in a shower of lightning sparks that interrupted Nero's training, and even before he saw her pull out the broken Yamato, he _knew_ it was there, that she'd brought it for him.

"Looks like you were right, Vergil. Yamato's allowing itself to be held, but any attempts at repair or using it wind up with the user getting their hand chopped off. Do you know how much of a pain it is to regrow a hand?" She scoffed, then looked down at Nero's grip on his wooden practice sword before addressing Nelo Angelo again. "… You already knew it would turn out this way. Still, no guarantee your brat's even demon enough to be able to repair or use it."

There were two segments of the sword that Trish handed over. The tsuka, with a significant portion of the blade, and the point, which Nero couldn't remember the word that Nelo Angelo had taught him off the top of his head. But the Yamato was missing its saya and sageo entirely, making it dangerous to handle… or so he'd been told.

Actually grabbing hold of the tsuka took Nero's breath away. It coursed with a power he'd never really felt before, and before he could even ask what was going on, both pieces disappeared in a flash of blue light.

"… Well that's new. What'd you do with it, kid?" Trish looked down at Nero, but he was hardly paying any attention to her.

Rather than disappearing for good, Nero could still _feel_ the Yamato's power, coursing through his entire body and energizing him. There was still something a little off, like a wall he couldn't quite push through yet, but already he wanted to try and do more training with Nelo Angelo. Something in him said that using his practice sword would be a bit easier with Yamato guiding his movements.

"Curious. Most Devil Arms react to me by going into a magical… pocket, you could say. I've even seen that used to carry mundane human weapons. But Nero pulled Yamato directly into himself…" Nelo Angelo spoke to Trish, but his cold, red eyes never left Nero's arm.

Next to him, Trish scoffed. "Well that's worse than useless, isn't it? What good is even a broken piece of junk if it's hiding in some mostly-human's body?" She tilted her head, a smile growing on her face. "Wonder if it'll come back if we rip the kid apart."

Nero knew, without a doubt, that Trish would be more than willing to do that to him, too. And Nelo Angelo might not be able to help him, so the only choice Nero had if he wanted to survive was to fight. To put himself on the defensive. So he raised his wooden training sword, getting into a stance that was guided partly by what he'd been taught, and partly by the Yamato's power coursing through him.

Whatever he was doing, it made Trish pause. And then a rare sound, one that made something in Nero's stomach clench with an emotion he didn't know how to identify. "Looks as if he's demon enough to use Yamato's power, even broken as it is. Your worries are unfounded. Tell Master Mundus that with time, I can teach Nero how to wield Yamato properly. In the meantime, I'll need information on how to repair a broken Devil Arm."

Nelo Angelo was… laughing. Because of _Nero_, because of his actions to stand up and apparently do something that defied Trish's expectations. But Nero didn't move from his defensive stance until Trish left again. He wouldn't trust any demon… even if Nelo Angelo was the nicest demon to him, Nero still couldn't trust that his master wouldn't turn on him if ordered, either.

Nero needed more power — not just the power to defend himself, but the power to take down even Mundus. Yamato felt on the verge of whispering something to him, but aside from the thrum of demonic energy coming from his right arm, Nero couldn't sense anything from his new sword.

After a few moments with the electrifying buzz of power slowly dying down, Nero jumped when a hand rested on top of his head. Nelo Angelo looked down at him, a softer edge to his harsh features that made Nero rub his nose in embarrassment. "What?"

"You did well. I'm proud of you, Nero."

That twisting feeling in his gut again. Nero turned away, shoving his master's hand away because he knew he wouldn't be punished for it and because he really needed time to process those words.

No one had ever been _proud_ of Nero before. He was always an embarrassment, useless, even so much as to be scum among demons. Why would Nelo Angelo ever be proud of him? What was there to even be proud _of_?

"Whatever. Are we done with training right now? My arm feels weird and Yamato's giving me a headache." Too much power at once, something cracked in the sword that felt cracked in Nero, as well. That wasn't even getting into how he wanted time alone to sort through all the weird feelings that seemed to tighten up his chest and stomach.

As expected, Nelo Angelo didn't punish Nero for pushing away his hand. So, like the petulant teenager that Nero was, he stormed off to take a bath and wash away the grit and sweat he'd built up from his training.

* * *

It wasn't until he'd cleaned up and allowed himself to soak that Nero let his mind wander to try and process everything. Nelo Angelo's laugh was so rare, and Nero had been the one to bring it out. **_I'm proud of you, Nero._** There was no reason for a fucking demon to be proud of him! No one had ever cared about Nero, not even his own parents! **_Demons aren't capable of love._** And wasn't one of Nero's parents at least part-demon? Did that mean one parent was just straight up incapable of loving him?

**_I'm proud of you, Nero._** Stupid fucking Angelo and his soft laugh and trying to _care_ about Nero! It wasn't fair! No one else had ever even tried to care about him, why should this dumb demon start now?

**_Humans have a tendency to mistake lust for love, at times._** Was Nero incapable of love, too? Was he just human enough to think that he wanted love, when what he really wanted was sex?

Nero bit his lower lip hard enough to bleed, but it didn't even bother him at this point. Instead, he reached down into the water with his demonic arm and took his dick into his hand.

He was already half-hard, just thinking about Nelo Angelo's rare laugh, and that small smile he sometimes gave when Nero was doing well in his training, and the way they curled together at night to share Nero's body heat.

** _It will not be the same… but it is what I can offer._ **

Would Nelo Angelo be just as gentle with sex as he was in every other part of Nero's life? Would he let Nero imagine what it could be like to be loved, with soft kisses and firm guiding hands? Or would it be like he'd seen demons doing sometimes, all bloodied teeth and claws heightening their senses and driving them both into a frenzy?

His body didn't seem to care either way — Nero covered his mouth with his human hand, biting hard into the fleshy pad of his thumb as he finally came. It was more intense than usual, and everything felt oversensitive even as Nero rinsed and dried off.

He was demon enough to wield Yamato. Maybe that meant Nero really _was_ too demon to feel real love, but human enough to mistake his desire for sex as a desire for someone to love him.

Nero dressed in just a large nightshirt this time, crawling into bed next to Nelo Angelo the same way he usually did these days. At least his master had never actually lied to him — Nelo Angelo was selfish, had only desired Nero's body heat, and definitely wouldn't love a bastard child that had been all but forced on him by Mundus.

"You smell upset, Nero."

Nelo Angelo was always trying to get Nero to talk about what was going on in his head. It just showed that Nero was too human for even a half-demon to really understand.

"It's nothing important." A lie, but it was only important because Nero had been fooling himself for so long. He'd said he didn't want to pretend to feel love with Nelo Angelo, but the entire time Nero was just as incapable of it as his master.

Time to stop pretending.

Nero pushed himself up and crawled onto Nelo Angelo's lap. There was only a few moments of hesitation before he grabbed the blue robes his master wore to bed and pulled himself in for a clumsy kiss.

Nelo Angelo's lips were just as cold as the rest of him, but warmed quickly enough as Nero _growled_ and tried to lean further in. Chilled hands pushed under the nightshirt Nero wore, brushing against overheated skin.

But there was one thing that _really_ sent thrills down Nero's spine: Nelo Angelo bit at his lower lip, drawing bright red and too-human blood before licking it up. It didn't matter then that Nero had just used his own hand to get off only a few minutes ago — now he felt like he could keep going forever, he wanted that sensation to last long enough to send him soaring.

Unfortunately, it ended far too soon when Nelo Angelo pushed Nero back, one hand on his chest to prevent him from initiating more. "Is this what you want, Nero?"

What the fuck did that mean? Of _course_ it was what Nero wanted! It was the only thing that made any kind of sense right now. Nero wanted to have sex with Nelo Angelo — whether because he was lying to himself and still insistent that desired his master's nonexistent love while mixing it up with lust, or because he really _did_ want to love someone and was willing to put up with a lie because it was the only comfort he could get from someone who at least cared — it didn't matter anymore.

Nero wanted to feel _something_. Love, lust, whatever. This was the option available to him, so this was what he was going to take.

"Fuck you for asking me when I'm the one who started this, asshole!"

Another soft laugh that made Nero's stomach twist around. "Ah, but Nero... If this is what you want, then isn't it the other way around? I'm going to be the one fucking _you_."

Nero hadn't fully thought about that. It was a little terrifying, but didn't actually change his mind. "Then do it, _Master_. Show me what you've got."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY SO it's time for my yearly Winter Depression Season™ so expect more infrequent updates than usual, as well as a lack of consistent social media presence.
> 
> I'm still up for chatting on discord, but if you want the handle you'll have to DM me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/LadyLavenderFic) or leave a separate comment saying you want to contact me and we can work something out
> 
> Thanks for all your support. I really love writing self-indulgent darkfic, this one included 💜💜💜


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